So, last Saturday Christian, my mom and I embarked on our Colorado Springs cake tasting spree. We first stopped at Boonzaaijers Dutch Bakery… their vanilla raspberry cake blew my mind. It was delicious, sugary, and so so good. However, the rest of the flavors didn’t really jive with my high cake expectations. But don’t worry, it wasn’t time to fret because we had two more stops before we were going to throw in the cake tasting towel.

Next up Marvels Cake Boutique. Now, not to sound too high maintenance, but I was instantly thrilled that we each got our own bites to taste as opposed to sharing a small piece among the three of us. More cake for me, heck yes! We love, love, loved the spice cake (and what could be more perfect for a fall wedding, nothing you say? I agree). My mom got chills up her spine when we tried the almond (hello, yum). We decided that the chocolate and red velvet were winners as well. By the end of the tasting I was so full that I honestly felt that if I had one more bite of anything I might explode, or die. Do you ever get that full? On top of the immense fullness going on in my abdominal region the sugar coma, must nap now stage of the afternoon was in full swing.

Though I was borderline catatonic, the decision couldn’t be made just yet. While Marvels upped the ante, we had to be certain that there wasn’t another cake out there with our names on it. So, that’s just what we did.

Little London Cake Shoppe here we come (if not a little more haggard that when we started out). They handed us a box full of cake. Not a few slices, but a box, which I promptly forgot to take a picture of. At any other phase in my life I would have been overwhelmed by cake joy, but the thought of having to try 14 more cake flavors and two frostings had my hurl meter beeping at high alert. I never thought I would say it, but I couldn’t fathom putting another piece of cake into my mouth.

But, I bet you can guess what I did. I put 14 more bites of cake in my mouth, followed by 2 more bites of frosting. It was delicious, or as delicious as cake can be after eating it for hours on end. From there I proceeded to swear off cake for life and try to talk Christian in to serving a veggie tray with sprinkles at the wedding in place of the sweet, debilitating cake we ate all afternoon. It was a no go, but worth a shot anyways.

After some long and hard discussion, we’ve made the decision to go with Marvels — but the flavor combinations? Top secret. On another note, my birthday is next week and I feel deeply saddened to think I may not be able to eat cake… I’m crossing my fingers that my cake appetite returns in the next few days. Not that I’ll complain if we end up eating Strawberries and whipped cream — my new addiction.

I packed it along figuring I’d eat it at work or toss it. About halfway from Denver to Fort Collins I decide that I’m too broke to be wasting food (especially delicious, healthy food) and that I will be eating it for breakfast if I have to choke down each leaf and brussel sprout as I go.

And, I’m proud to admit that I did just that. So here it is, my “leftover” breakfast – salad and green tea – in all it’s awesomeness. Maybe I’ll start a salad for breakfast streak, then again, maybe not.

In the salad: baby romaine, brussel sprouts, brown rice, chicken breast and walnuts. All topped off with red wine vinaigrette.

I would never describe myself as having a sweet tooth. I’m usually a salt person and would pick a plate of hot steaming french fries over a chocolate chip cookie any day. Lately, though, I’ve been having intense sugar cravings — maybe because I’m trying to cut back, part of getting healthy kick?

I’ve craved everything from soda to pumpkin bars to cupcakes to ice cream, and everything in between… but the main and insatiable craving comes everyday in the form of Milk Duds. I love them both because of and in spite of the fact that they are a caramel, chocolate candy  that semi-resembles deer droppings. They are just so amazing.

Milk Duds on top of being spectacular are one of the foods that will forever remind me of my dad. There are several foods that do that: Fritos, Milk Duds, Grape Popsicles, Cornbread… and I love them all just a little more because we used to eat them together.

Growing up, my Dad spent a good portion of time working in Aspen. He published a local magazine and actually had BE THERE to get things done – go figure. Every once in a while my mom would give the “ok” for my sister and I to skip school for a few days to go to Aspen with my Dad. We’d take ski lessons on Buttermilk mountain while he worked and go get brownies afterwards at a little café downtown. After our time was up we’d stop at the gas station in Basalt, CO and load up on goodies. Milk Duds and Fritos. We’d spend the next four hours together eating, listening to Pasty Kline or no music at all. I loved those days. And I still love Milk Duds.

*Milk Dud Image by Pillie Bee

I want to like it. I want to like it. I want to like it.

Isn’t it posh to say “Let’s just meet for breakfast!”. Very stepford wife. I want to be posh and girly and like french toast. I want to know exactly how to order an attractive sounding coffee. I want to be able to say I’ll have the granola instead of “I’ll have to breakfast burrito, BUT you HAVE to scramble the eggs REALLY, REALLY dry… like borderline brown. Oh, and leave out the tomatoes and mushrooms, ok?”. Sometimes I’ll think to myself:

What would it be like to really enjoy breakfast? What is going to breakfast like for normal people? Do normal people worry that there won’t be anything on the menu worth spending $15 on? Why am I even worrying about this? Order toast and be done. But I don’t really want toast, plus it usually comes out all buttered, floppy and soggy. Does anyone really like toast that way, there’s nothing toasty about it? Why am I even going to breakfast? Why did I suggest this, I know I hate breakfast? … and the list goes on.

I do like biscuits and gravy, plus an occasional egg dish. But that’s about it. Once in a while I can muster the appetite for some pancakes or something more regular, but if given the choice I’ll choose lunch or dinner over breakfast any day.

What’s your favorite meal? Any meal you particularly dislike?

*”Lemon and Sugar” photo by Taste Spotting

After a delicious burrito lunch and a stroll through Old Town we made our way over to New Belgium for a tour. If you’ve never taken the New Belgium tour it is something you MUST add to your to do list. I’ll give you a mini-sneak peak of the awesomeness:

You start your tour by the big red arrow and the girl in the yellow shirt that looks a little creepy:

They give you tons of beer samples — I had to pass mine off after a while:

Then tons of cool things all over the place, like the rings hanging from ceiling in brew house 2, a twisty slide, postcards you can send for free, and all kinds of wall art and sayings just to make you feel inspired:

We got a “private” tasting at the end:

Before heading over to the bar for our final sample:

It was great… and makes me miss Fort Collins even more! Try it out, I promise you won’t be disappointed!

On the other hand I am not a fan of the Macy’s Thanksgiving day parade. I don’t really “get” parades. Especially the ones that show case ambulances and have convertibles reserved for the “Pork Princess”.  Maybe I sat through one too many Corn Carnival parades in Iowa over the past 23 years. Tractor, after tractor, after tractor followed by fire trucks and baton twirlers sort of wore me out. Once you reach the age where you can’t shove small children out of the way for Tootsie Rolls and Dum-Dums, parades sort of lose their sparkle. So, I’ll be skipping the parade, wearing sweats and gearing up for a tryptophan coma starting somewhere around 3:00. Not sure it gets much better than that!

Hope your Thanksgiving is equally as fulfilling!

Unless your guess was “order me a 60 oz. margarita while I was in the bathroom” you are wrong. Don’t believe me? Whatever. It was 60 effing ounces. 60. That’s huge. After drinking it, not only was I a little fuzzy on the details but I felt like a beached whale. FULL OF STRAWBERRY MARGARITA. I also had a rough looking character cheering me on at the bar. I somehow managed to remember that he had had only 3 beers while I was downing the 60 oz. Some call me observant, others call me competitive. I’ll take it either way. I won. Here is my drink.

And here is Lindsey looking less than thrilled with my progress.

Well that is how day two started. Pedophile central. We went to Alcatraz, wandered around Pier 39 where I was made a spectacle in some “real life” magician’s show. I already knew the trick he tried on me… so, how to you fake surprise instead of annoyance? I’ll tell you how. Just look utterly terrified. Works like a charm.

We bought bread at Boudin’s sourdough factory and did a wine tasting — four letters, LOVE. Ate dinner at Nicks then rode the trolley home. It was lovely. A couple photos because the last two posts didn’t have quite enough…

After 3 hours squished on the plane we arrived in San Fran. P.S. Whoever devised the seating arrangements on planes was not 6’ tall… not only is the leg room abysmal, but also try typing with my gangly gargantuan arms. I had my elbow so far protruding out in the aisle I got hit by anything and everything that went by. [Checking for bruises now.]

Got off the plane, got our bags and found our way to the BART station. I thought we may lose my hearing due to the screaming noises it makes going through the tunnel, but alas we persevered.

Dim Sum was our first order of duty and we fitfully made our way to Chinatown. Ate some BBQ pork among an array of dumplings and sticky rice and headed on our way. Scoped out some of the wharf, hand a WONDERFUL sundae at Ghirardelli (made my heart swoon), slurped down and Irish coffee at Buena Vista and then headed back to Santorini‘s for dinner. Honestly, food was our #1 priority… so food we found. Here are a few photos of that first day…

The bread I ate all day long:

Or Fred, the crab we had for dinner.

Had to say which exactly did me in, but did me in they did. Hope you’re jealous… I’m going to go sleep this one off. Oy.